


we are the young

by orphan_account



Category: Hockey RPF, Women's Hockey RPF
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 16:57:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10926102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: They know that the World's roster is coming. They don't know who's going to make it. Haley has some weird feelings and some linemates she's not sure about, but these things have a way of working out.





	we are the young

**Author's Note:**

> These two were college roommates and teammates, and they carpool to practice now as pro teammates. They're also super gross about each other. Read more about that [here](https://anonym.to/?https://www.todaysslapshot.com/womens-hockey/dana-trivigno-and-haley-skarupa-once-and-future-teammates).

“Stop,” Dana says. 

Haley can see that she’s trying not to smile, so she wads up another shred of her napkin and tosses it across the booth. This one sticks in Dana’s hair, and she doesn’t notice, which is hilarious. Haley grins at her until she looks up from the menu and frowns.

“You’re twelve,” Dana says, kicking her under the table, and Haley kicks back. They go back to their menus again for a few seconds, Haley waiting for Dana to actually say something, until she gets impatient and gives up.

“Hey,” she says, “what’s up?”

Dana has made up her mind not to answer, and Haley knows she’s expecting to be heckled for it, so instead of doing exactly that she waits. Whatever it is that’s been eating at her, Dana has been quiet since their game last night, quieter than usual. Haley knows why, but Dana has to be the one to say it, so all there is to do is wait. 

“I’m just in a slump,” Dana says, brushing it off, and Haley decides to drop it, for now. She wads up another little piece of her napkin, but she hasn’t even lifted her head before Dana flicks one of her own right between Haley’s eyes.

-

The roster is coming. They both know it. They _all_ know it, and Kelli is the least concerned, and Haley kind of hates her for it. Kelli is always impossible, but it’s worse when Haley knows that Dana hears everything and never says anything about it. Dana’s skating in aimless circles on the far side of the rink when Haley does it for her.

“Canada’s going to eat shit this year,” Kelli tells Babs, who rolls her eyes.

“Hey,” Haley says, more firmly than she means to, and they both give her weird looks, but she’s got to commit. “Um, shut up.”

“I’m not going to jinx it,” Kelli says, tapping her stick against the back of Haley’s knee.

“Not everyone is a lock on that roster,” Haley says, and Kelli blinks at her, but she doesn’t say anything else about it. 

-

“I’m not fragile,” Dana says on the way home.

Kaliya is asleep in the backseat. Haley turns the music down a little, in case Dana wants to say more, but she’s dreading it a little bit, trying to figure out if Kelli or Babs could have said something to Dana when she wasn’t paying attention. But she’s _always_ paying attention. And there’s no way they could have known she was talking about Dana, not herself. 

She could be left off the roster too. She knows that. It doesn’t bother her as much, somehow.

“I’m not,” Dana tries again, tugging the sleeves of her sweatshirt down over her hands, “like, I’m fine. I feel like you’re tiptoeing around me.”

“I am not a subtle person,” Haley says, and catches Dana smiling out of the corner of her eye.

“Yeah,” Dana agrees, and that’s it. It’s the second conversation that they haven’t had about it. Haley tells herself to stop counting.

-

They’re supposed to get their invitations at nine, but it doesn’t happen. Haley checks again to make sure they have the right time zone, and they do, it’s just late, maybe. Dana knows too, even though she hasn’t brought it up. She’s distracted, with her laptop open and a powerpoint for class up. It’s weird for Haley, still, that they’re not in class _together_. 

She realizes when she goes to make coffee that Dana left her mug in the keurig, with the coffee in it that she hasn’t even touched. Haley puts the right amount of sugar and creamer in it and sets it down next to Dana, who blinks at it for a few seconds before she realizes what she did.

“You should check again,” Dana says, and Haley frowns.

“You check,” she says, and Dana goes back to her powerpoint.

“I did.”

Haley checks her email on her phone, leaning against the table next to where Dana is sitting. She knows what’s coming before she actually reads the email, and she knows what Dana staring at the same page of her powerpoint means. Haley’s stomach drops, and she watches Dana click to the next slide without typing anything, staring blankly ahead. She’s holding it together really well, and Haley realizes it’s been a long time since she saw Dana _not_ hold it together.

She’s not sure when that stopped being a side of Dana that she got to see, but it makes her feel worse than the email. 

“It’s just one tournament,” Haley says, “he’s trying different stuff, there’s still--centralization is a really big roster, like a lot of people on it, I know you’ll be in that one.”

“Stop,” Dana says, clicking again, even though she clearly hasn’t read anything. 

“You stop,” Haley says, and Dana looks up, startled. 

“It’s okay to be upset about it,” Haley says, and Dana crumbles immediately, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. Haley panics for a second, knowing that Dana probably would have waited to get like this about it, but instinct takes over and she tugs Dana up by the elbows, into a hug. She stays leaning against the table and Dana’s arms go around her neck, but she’s still holding back until Haley hugs her properly around the waist.

Dana’s crying and Haley’s collar is wet, and she’s upset, too, trying to imagine paying _without_ Dana, but there’s something else, too, something about Dana’s arms around her shoulders and the coffee and how sometimes it feels stupid that they have two different bedrooms when Haley could fall asleep in Dana’s bed without thinking twice about it. She feels guilty that it occurs to her that something’s different with them, because Dana needs her right now and they live together and it would be stupid for them to do anything even if Dana wanted to, but the thought it already there, and Haley can’t unthink it.

“I don’t wanna do this without you,” Haley says, and Dana presses her face into Haley’s neck.

“I can't even get anything going in the league,” Dana says, pulling back and wiping her eyes. Haley reaches for a napkin and Dana takes it, but she's still basically standing on top of Haley, who wants to hug her again, or wrap her up in a blanket and bake her cookies, which is a little weird.

“Dolly,” Haley says, “it's your first year out of college, you're not going to spontaneously become a scoring machine.”

“You did,” Dana points out, and Haley grimaces, because it's true. She wishes Dana would take a step back because she feels like she can't even see Dana’s expression, just her eyes. 

“Sorry,” Dana says, turning away and reaching for her coffee, giving Haley room to breathe, “that wasn't fair. I just don't understand what's not clicking.”

“You're trying too hard,” Haley suggests, and Dana glares at her, but it's not serious. 

“Says you,” she replies, and moves to the fridge. 

“Exactly,” Haley says, “trying too hard is my thing. So I can tell when other people are doing it. You played really well at the all star game.”

“Only because I was trying to kick your ass,” Dana mumbles, reaching toward the back of the fridge. She sounds like her again, and Haley’s so relieved that it turns into a smile. 

“Whatever,” Haley says, “then play like you're trying to kick my ass, if that's what works.”

-

Haley is taking up most of the couch when Dana gets out of the shower. She doesn’t move, and Dana doesn’t ask her to. Instead she sits down and shoves Haley’s legs out of the way with her own legs, and they kick each other for almost thirty seconds, trying to get comfortable, before they settle with Haley’s legs in Dana’s lap.

“If you take off your socks,” Dana says, “I’m leaving.”

Haley starts to peel one of her socks off, and Dana shoves Haley’s feet off of her lap. She leaves her socks on and Dana lets her go back to how she was before. They put on the stupid show about guys who build fish tanks for a living and Haley scrolls through her Instagram, sporadically liking dog pictures and sending things to Dana, who ignores her buzzing phone for twenty minutes before she finally picks it up.

“So, um,” she says, “the boycott thing, I know they were talking about it during Four Nations, but...are they actually gonna do it?”

Haley bites her lips. She’s been reading the group chat but she hasn’t said much. She doesn’t have much _to_ say, and it bothers her every time she gets a text that Dana doesn’t, because it includes her, too. Even if it doesn’t this tournament. Meghan assured them they’d tell everyone soon, but even then Haley knows she knows more details than they’ll tell Dana. They haven’t told her _not_ to say anything, but--

“You don’t have to tell me,” Dana says, “you probably can’t, huh?”

“I can,” Haley says, “I just don’t really know anything, I mean, they’re gonna do it but other than that I don’t know yet.”

“Do you think you’ll actually stay here if nothing happens?” Dana sks, and Haley presses her lips together.

“I hope so,” she says, but she’s not sure what she thinks. She knows that they won’t go, but she doesn’t know whether she thinks anyone would scab for them. She doesn’t want to think that far ahead. 

-

They do it. Dana doesn’t ask her anything else for a while and that makes it harder for Haley not to tell her everything. She knows that USA Hockey will be looking for scabs, but she’s trying not to think about it, trying not to think about past classmates or teammates or camp friends who might say yes, or the potential that an actual team could be scraped together in time. She just wants to play.

She’s able to ignore it until she comes out of her room one morning and Dana is fuming in the kitchen, making a lot of noise with the plates and silverware, and Haley stands stunned in the entrance to the room.

“Um,” she says, “hey, Dolly, what’s up?”

“They asked me to scab,” Dana says, manhandling another bowl into the dishwasher.

“Oh,” Haley says. She doesn’t ask if Dana said yes; she knows better than that.

“I’m sorry,” Haley offers, because she’s not sure what else to say. She is sorry that Dana’s dealing with the fallout of the boycott. She’s still trying not to think about it. Meghan and Kacey and the veterans are the ones dealing with the details, asking them for input when they need it. Aside from an agreement to committing to that boycott, Haley hasn’t had much to do, so it’s not her _fault_. But she’s sorry anyway.

Dana turns to her, and Haley almost takes a step back. She’s not sure she’s ever seen Dana like this, this mad about something off the ice, and she’s not sure that she likes it.

“I can’t believe they thought I would do that to you,” Dana says, and the cold, quiet fury in her voice hangs in the silence afterwards, while Haley tries to imagine ever following that with anything. She has the instinct to make a joke out of it, the way she always does when things are happening quickly and emotions are high, but this time she forces herself to take a breath and be real.

“They weren’t thinking that hard about it,” she says, “they probably have a listserv.”

Dana had said it like agreeing to be a scab would have betrayed Haley. Not the team, just Haley, her specifically. It was probably nothing.

Haley knows it wasn’t nothing. 

“Whatever,” Dana says, and she’s the one to turn away, going back to loading the dishwasher.

 

-

Haley is a little surprised when it turns out that things work out. She feels like a traitor for feeling that way, but she doesn’t tell anyone. She gets excited and nervous all at once knowing that she’s actually going to Michigan with the team, without Dana. It’s childish, but that’s how she feels. Worlds is kind of a tryout for the Olympics, too, and a lot of pressure now that they’re going without a full camp, with the eyes of the world on them.

She kind of wants to puke the more she thinks about it.

“Get hype,” Kelli says when she sees her, and once again Haley wishes she came with a mute button. Dana’s nice about it, smiling at them, for them, but Haley’s mad for her. She wonders why they can only ever be pissed for each other.

-

“Stop eating that,” Dana says. 

“No,” Haley answers, reaching back into the brownie brittle bag.

“Seriously,” Dana says, “you haven’t even had a real camp, you’re going to be slow and embarrass your line in front of Canada.”

“Shut up,” Haley says, around a mouthful. She doesn’t want to remember that Dana won’t be there, on her line or otherwise. Dana reaches for the bag and Haley kicks her. That’s the best way to ensure that Dana _doesn’t_ leave her alone, and she knows she’s right about that even before Dana reaches for the bag again, sitting up on her knees. The TV is still on, though Haley can’t remember why they’re watching in her room instead of the living room. It doesn’t matter now.

“No,” she mumbles, gripping the bag with both hands. Dana reaches over her, getting her hands on the bag too, but Haley keeps moving it until they’re full on wrestling for it, Dana’s hand clasped around her wrist, Dana’s knee digging into her hip. They’re kind of laughing and kind of serious, but Haley knows she’s not going to win, so she uses her wrist to toss the bag off the bed, assuming that Dana will go after it and let go of her. It’s hard to breathe with Dana’s knee practically in her ribs now.

Dana doesn’t move right away. Their faces are closer than Haley realized when Dana looks up, and it should be weird, but the only thing that’s weird is that she can’t seem to stop herself from glancing down at Dana’s mouth. 

She’s really not being subtle. Her heart is in her throat and she waits, stupidly wondering if Dana will do it, daring her to do it by tilting her head down just a little to make it easier. She’s never known Dana to back off of a dare, but it feels crazy, this time, crazier than any of the stupid things they’ve ever done. Crazy and inevitable.

Dana kisses her. Haley feels like she hasn’t given Dana much of a choice, putting their faces close like that, but no matter how they got there it’s still happening. Dana’s knee is still in Haley’s ribs, her hand still tight on Haley’s wrist, but it’s a good kiss. 

Haley feels like she’s been waiting forever for it.

She tilts her head left and Dana tilts right, moving to straddle Haley’s hips, which at least means that Dana’s knee isn’t in her ribs. Now, though, Haley can’t breathe for an entirely different reason. It’s been a while since she kissed someone, but she’s pretty sure this wouldn’t compare, anyway. Dana props herself up with both hands on either side of Haley’s head, but Haley isn’t sure what to do with her hands, so she just leaves them where they are until it’s more uncomfortable to be lying still than to potentially make a mistake.

She doesn’t know if Dana wants her to touch. She’s assuming, since Dana is still kissing her, _really_ kissing her, that it’s probably fine, but her stomach still drops when she actually moves her hands, placing them awkwardly on Dana’s thighs.

Dana moves again, and Haley thinks for a second that she might have made a mistake, until one of Dana’s hands moves to her shoulder. She didn’t have to do that, she was fine with both hands holding her up, which means she’s doing it just to touch Haley, whose head is spinning at least half from that realization. The other half is because she hasn’t breathed in so long that her lungs ache, but she doesn’t want to break off the kiss. She’s afraid that will be it, that Dana will apologize or something and they’ll never do this again. 

They both end up taking a breath at the same time, their noses bumping, and Haley has just gotten air back in her lungs when she decides it’s her turn to kiss Dana. She has the out-of-body experience of realizing that she can feel the heat of Dana’s skin through her pajama pants, and the completely ridiculous urge to get her hands on skin, which she ignores. Her brain has shut down enough for her to be comfortable with the kiss now, because all she can think, over and over, is that this is Dana. This is Dana. She’s kissing Dana, and Dana is kissing her, and it’s _good_.

Somehow, Haley’s hands end up on Dana’s hips. She’s never thought about Dana’s hips before, but they’re narrower than she expected. The second she gets her hands on them, Dana pulls back just far enough to exhale, and her breath smells like brownie brittle. Haley has to laugh. Dana smiles, but she goes back in for the kiss again, and this time both of their mouths are open and they’re not smiling for very long.

Eventually Haley rolls over onto her side. She likes that better, at least partially because having Dana in her lap was getting to be a lot and she didn’t want to push it, or break whatever weird spell they’re under. Now it’s Dana’s hands on her hips, and Haley reaches up to place her hand on Dana’s neck, her thumb just brushing Dana’s jaw. 

They do that for a long time. Haley isn’t sure how long. Things are fuzzy and slow, both of them half asleep, and now that she’s resisted the urge to get her hands under Dana’s shirt Haley’s brain is quieter, too. She does intertwine their legs, just because kissing Dana is easier if they’re closer together. Dana is the one who stops the kiss, but she doesn’t move away, just draws her arms in to her chest. Their legs are still tangled up when Haley drifts off. She keeps meaning to say something, to ask if Dana is okay, but it never happens.

-

Haley’s alarm doesn't go off. She never set it. She's lucky enough to wake up at 5 on her own and reach blindly for her phone on the night table, but it's not there, just her alarm clock, telling her she's a half hour early. She can't figure out why her teeth feel gross and her phone is gone until she remembers that she's not alone in her bed. 

Dana isn't touching her anymore but she's still there, curled up so small on the other end of the mattress. Haley can't breathe. The last time she felt panic like this she was taking a final, but it feels like that, like one wrong answer will fail her out of this. She doesn't know where her phone is. She doesn't know if she should wake Dana up or touch her or--definitely not touch her, Dana’s not awake, that would be fucked up. But Haley wants to. She wants to wrap her arms around Dana and curl close to her and sleep all day. 

Lucky for her she has a plane to catch. 

-

Somehow Haley gets lucky enough to get a seat next to someone quiet. Kacey’s not very awake, but with how rowdy half of their teammates are, Haley’s grateful. She reads the back cover of Kacey’s book while Kacey reads the book itself, and eventually Kacey looks up, tugging one of her earphones out and pushing her glasses up her nose a little bit as the plane starts to taxi.

“You didn’t bring a book or anything?” she asks, and Haley shrugs.

The book she had was on the night table on Dana’s side. She wasn’t going to risk waking Dana up by shuffling around over there.

“I’ll just sleep,” she says, “or read Sky Mag. They have the fancy ones up here in first class.”

“Buy one of those stupid massage chairs with your gold medal bonus,” Kacey says, and pops her earphone back in.

-

iMessage  
Dolly 

you didn’t even wake me up to say bye. lame..

-

Haley doesn’t answer it. She has no idea how to answer it. She doesn’t feel ready to play, or ready to acknowledge Dana, or ready for Canada. She still doesn’t feel ready for Canada halfway through her first shift, stuck on a line with Kelli and Joce, who, as the night goes on, pass to her as little as possible. Haley starts to get self conscious wondering if she’s done something to _make_ them avoid passing to her, but she’s pretty sure Canada would have made them pay for it if she had committed some ridiculous turnover. She’s been playing fine. They just don’t seem to remember she’s on their line.

Still, Decker and Gigi and a win and a shutout for Nic is something to be excited about, and Haley is excited until she digs her phone out of her bag on the bus back to the hotel and sees that her brother is the only one who’s texted her.

It’s not that she was expecting anything from Dana. She was the last one to text, anyway, so Haley knows it’s her turn, but she wonders if Dana watched, if she has thoughts about it. She wants to call and ask. She wants to hear Dana talk this game down like she did after every game they ever played in college and every game they played this season.

-

iMessage  
Hales

how many times do u think my linemates try to toe drag before they pass to me?

-

iMessage  
Dolly 

the limit does not exist. 

-

Haley waits until after the game against Russia to panic.

“I’m not generating anything,” she says into her pillow. Kacey, from across the room, pauses brushing her hair.

“Can’t hear you like that,” she points out helpfully, and Haley turns her head so her complaint isn’t muffled.

“I can’t generate anything,” she says.

“It’s two games,” Kacey says, “you’ll be fine, you’re playing well, it’ll click.”

“What if it doesn’t? Haley asks, and Kacey gives her a look like a sibling would give, which is fair because Haley is complaining to her like a sibling.

“Then he’ll switch your line up,” Kacey says, “and you’ll try again. But try to make it work with this line so you don’t homewreck someone else’s.”

“No pressure,” Haley says, turning her face into her pillow again. She desperately misses Dana, who would know exactly what to say. Haley’s not even sure what she needs to hear.

“Hey,” Kacey says, plopping down on the bed next to her, “what’s really eating at you? Cause I know it’s not that you haven’t scored a hat trick yet this tournament.”

If it’s a dig at her recent hat trick against the Pride, Haley’s not going to take the bait. She doesn’t have the energy. She wants to lie, but she doesn’t have the energy for that either, and Kacey’s going to get it out of her eventually anyway.

“I think I fucked up,” Haley says, and she closes her eyes so she doesn’t have to see Kacey’s face. Kacey waits for her to elaborate, and eventually Haley does, but she doesn’t enjoy it.

“Dana and I kissed the night before I left,” she admits, and Kacey sucks air in through her teeth like she’s stubbed her toe.

“That’s it?” she asks, and Haley opens her eyes to frown.

“Um,” she says, “yes,” but Kacey doesn’t believe her, so she continues, “I mean, it was more like we made out, but yes, that’s it. Only, like, it’s not--we live together, we play together, she’s my best friend and we didn’t talk about it after so it’s just--I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“If all you did was kiss her,” Kacey says, “I think you can probably get away with not bringing it up, if you guys are close enough. It’ll be weird for a little while, but we’ve all been there, I think. Sometimes you make out with your best friend. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Haley thinks about her legs tangled up in Dana’s, imagines Dana waking up in _her_ bed without her, and her stomach drops out of her like she’s gone over the top of a roller coaster.

“Oh God,” Kacey says, “nevermind. You’re not telling me something. That’s okay. I don’t want to know. You know who you should talk to about this? Meghan.”

“No,” Haley says immediately, and Kacey raises her eyebrows. “I mean,” Haley says, “she’s busy, she doesn’t need to deal with this.”

“She’s a big girl, she can handle it,” Kacey assures her, “and who knows, maybe once you figure it out you’ll get your goal.”

“I’ll think about it,” Haley says, propping her chin on her hands.

-

Her line doesn’t get much better. There’s some rotating, but Haley still feels useless, and it drives her crazy because she knows that she doesn’t have to be, and because she hates even mentally blaming any of it on her linemates. But if someone would just pass to her--

There must be something that she can do better. 

In the end, she doesn’t even go to Meghan, Meghan comes to her, tapping her shoulder on the way into the hotel lobby.

“Can we talk?” Meghan asks, and Haley has never felt more like she’s fucked up. She hasn’t done anything wrong that she can think of, but she feels guilty anyway, moreso when Meghan’s room is empty. It’s like going to the principal’s office.

Meghan’s so intimidating, with her hair always perfect and her makeup never running and her steady, long-term relationship. It’s why Haley didn’t come to her first, but now it’s too late.

“Kacey told me to expect you a couple days ago,” Meghan says, “but I get that I can be scary, so...what’s up?”

Haley wants to say that this isn’t really any less scary, but she knows that Meghan means well, so she doesn’t. She’s just nervous, anyway, she doesn’t mean it. She’s been trying not to think about Dana but Dana and skating are so tied up in her head that it’s hard. And when she thinks about Dana she thinks about kissing her, and when she thinks about that she thinks about the fact that they haven’t talked it out.

“You don’t have to,” Meghan says gently, when Haley leans against the door, “I just want you to know that you can, you know?”

“No,” Haley says, “I mean, I wanted to, but you always seem busy, so,” she shrugs, “it’s not that serious. It’s just stuff with Dana.”

Meghan sits on the edge of her bed, which makes her a little bit less scary than before. She folds her hands in her lap and waits for clarification, and Haley scratches the back of her neck. It’s embarrassing to talk about. She feels like she’s in middle school all over again.

“It’s just been a long time since I played without her,” she says, “so it’s not clicking super easily for me. And also, um. We--we kissed the night before my flight out here and we didn’t really talk about it. But Kacey said she didn’t think we had to.”

Meghan bursts into laughter. Haley turns bright red. She knows because her face is burning, but all she can do is press her lips together and breathe through her nose. She wants to leave, but she can’t leave _now_.

“Sorry,” Meghan says, “it’s not at you, I promise I’m not laughing at you.” 

She gestures to the spot next to her on the bed, and Haley is relieved, because sitting next to Meghan means it’s easier to avoid eye contact. She’s sure it’s all over her face anyway, but at least she doesn’t have to watch Meghan read her like a book.

“Listen,” Meghan says, patting her knee, “and I say this with all the love in my heart: do not listen to Kacey on this one. She thought she could get away with not talking to me and it was like two months before I figured out that we were dating.”

It takes Haley a few seconds to understand what Meghan's telling her. Meghan and Kacey simultaneously seems absurd and completely utterly right. She can remember Dana asking her whether she thought that Meghan and Kacey were together, during their first senior call up. She can remember laughing. 

“It did feel weird not to say anything,” Haley admits, “but I didn't want to wake her up or anything so I just--I kinda left her there and bolted. And she texted me about it but I ignored it because I didn't know what to say.”

Meghan is quiet for a few seconds. Haley stares at her hands.

“I fucked up, huh,” she mumbles, and when she realizes how close to crying she is she gets pissed enough at herself to get even closer. 

“Hey,” Meghan says, patting her knee again, more insistently, “no, listen. Maybe. Yeah, maybe you should have said something to her. Probably. But that doesn't mean you can't fix it, okay? She's still texting you like normal?”

“Yeah,” Haley murmurs. 

“Then you're fine,” Meghan replies. “Just--when you get back, tell her what you want. Not in an aggressive way, just so she knows you want to date her or you want to move past it as friends or whatever you want.”

“I mean,” Haley says, “even if I wanted...if I want to date her...we’re still going to be playing together, you know? And living together, so I don’t think...I kind of thought maybe if I didn’t do anything about it, it would go away.”

“Maybe it would,” Meghan agrees, “but do you want it to?”

Haley can’t answer. She thinks about all the things she’s never really had before and knows that she wants them with Dana. She’s never taken someone out on a proper date, or held someone’s hand walking down the street, or kissed someone on the forehead, and every single one of those is weirder than the last but something that she wants. She wants to hold Dana’s hand. When she doesn’t answer, Meghan pats her knee one last time and gets up. She digs around in her bag and produces a protein bar like it’s candy.

“You want it?” Meghan asks, and Haley tries to be as polite as possible when she bails.

-

Haley finally gets her goal, against Germany. It’s dampened a little because it takes her three periods to do it and because more or less everyone has scored, but she does finally get it. She stops waiting for her linemates to pass to her, to set her up, and walks into the slot by herself. Somehow she ends up scoring from on the goal line, but she’s never really questioned the physics of how she gets those kinds of goals, the ones she scores out of spite when she’s pissed and frustrated.

It’s a nice goal. Keller almost flattens her trying to celebrate it. Haley misses the way that Dana used to try to jump on her, how easy it was to reach up and pat the top of Dana’s helmet. She can’t even reach the top of Keller’s, and it feels weird to pat anyone else’s. She’s still the bottom of the food chain.

 

-

Dana Facetimes her that night, and Haley fumbles with her phone when she gets the call, almost tripping on her way to the bed. Kacey gives her a weird look from the bathroom, and Haley holds up her phone.

“Dana,” she says, and Kacey grins, closing the bathroom door behind her

“Don’t worry, I’m not listening,” she cackles, and Haley picks up the call, arranging herself up against her headboard.

“Sick goal, Hales,” Dana says. She’s not sober. She must have gone out, or--she _is_ out, she has on her makeup and Haley can hear a restaurant or a bar in the background. She’s still calling, for some reason, grinning at her phone, tucked into a corner somewhere.

“You saw it?” Haley asks, redundantly, trying to figure out where Dana is and who she’s with that she has eyeliner on.

“Yeah,” Dana says, “duh, of course. I made them wait, so I could watch the game. Hales, it was such a good goal. How’d you even do that, did you bank it off the goalie?”

“Um,” Haley says, “I don’t know. Not on purpose. I just kind of got pissed and threw the puck at the net. I don’t think it went off her, though. Dolly, where are you?”

“Out,” Dana says, “we’re just getting some drinks.”

There’s a long silence then, where Haley and Dana just stare at each other. Haley feels stupid, like she’s missing something, like she should be saying something. It would be stupid to try to bring anything up now, because Dana is out, and it would be better to do in person, and Haley’s not really even sure what she wants. Dating Dana still seems totally out of the question. Haley’s afraid to say it out loud even to herself, much less to _Dana_. 

“Was that all you, um--”

“Yeah,” Dana breaks in, “just, um...wanted to tell you I saw your goal and it was insane. I guess. I dunno.”

Haley thanks her. They hang up and it’s weirder than it was before, weird enough that Haley’s barely even sure that they had that conversation. Dana didn’t look like herself. Haley still wonders who she was out with, what she’s drinking, what she’s doing now. She’s rolled over and pressed her face into her pillows before Kacey comes out of the bathroom.

“Yeah?” she asks, and Haley doesn’t even lift her head. She doesn’t have to in order to know exactly the face Kacey’s making at her.

“Go to sleep,” Haley mumbles into her pillow.

Kacey does that. It’s not hard for her, because her life is all figured out, and she’s playing well and their coaches know how important she is, and she’s got a cute girlfriend who loves her. She’s got her own problems, but not like Haley, who has nothing but problems. Nothing but questions. It’s possible that things will never be not-weird with her and Dana again, and she hates that, it makes her itch all over, makes her want to get up and run or call Dana again and try to fix it. It’s like the urge to pick at a scab even when you know that won’t help.

Whether or not she wants Dana in other ways--wants to kiss her, or hold her hand, or take her on a date--she wants her friend back more. She wants that easy joking, the stupid, almost-incoherent, gasping cry-laughter they’d work each other into at 2 in the morning.

Kacey snores once, softly. Haley turns her pillow over and buries her face in the cold side, taking a deep breath. When she exhales, she tells herself to let it go long enough to sleep. She’s here to play hockey.

That’s what Dana would say.

-

Two minutes into the gold-medal game they go down.

It might be less than that. Haley’s never been good at keeping an eye on the clock. All she knows is that she’s on the bench, itching for a line change watching her teammates fall behind, watching the two-on-one take shape, the flash of panic on Keller’s face when she realizes how fucked she is. She plays it okay, but she hesitates just a second too long, doesn’t commit, doesn’t try to block the shot either because she’s not confident enough to pick a direction for her body, and Canada goes up. 

They’ve been slow off the puck drop all tournament. Behind her, Robb tells them to keep their heads up, not to be distracted, to wake up and play like it’s still nothing-nothing. The next shift rolls out and Haley tries to unravel the pit of dread in her stomach. They can’t _lose_. Not like that. Not in front of a crowd like this. Not after everything.

Kacey saves them. 

-

She’s tipsy by the time they leave the locker room. It’s all a blur--the game-winner, the celebration after, taking pictures with her mom, behind handed half a bottle of champagne. She wonders what happens to champagne when they lose, and Hilary places a sloppy finger against her lips.

“Shh,” she says. 

“We send the champagne over to Canada’s locker room,” Decker says, and Hilary pops her bottle open into Decker’s face. They’re laughing again, over nothing, just at each other and delighted, and Haley misses Dana so suddenly that it makes her chest hurt.

The champagne helps. So she drinks more. She drank a lot of it. She’s not sure how much, but in the bus on the way to the bar she feels like a champagne bubble, empty inside but sparkling on the outside with her gold medal and a smile that she knows is kind of fake. 

-

Haley is stupid drunk enough to text Dana two hours later. 

“I wanna,” she tells Kacey, who has one arm around a twin (Haley’s not sure which at the moment) and her other around Haley’s shoulders.

“No,” Kacey says, drawing the vowel out, “even drunk I can tell you that is a bad fuckin’ idea.”

“You’d do it,” Haley says, and then immediately regrets it. She’s not sure that they’re close enough for her to say something like that, especially not if it’s true. It seems like the kind of thing that maybe only Meghan can say.

“Hell yeah I would,” Kacey says, not missing a beat. She lets go of the chattering twin to put her other hand on Haley’s face. Kacey’s hands are way cold, but it’s nice that she’s touching Haley like that, with intention, like she’s going to say something important.

“Listen,” Kacey says, “when I was in love with my best friend I was your age and I did a lotta stupid shit. But the stupidest shit I ever did was that I was too proud to admit I wanted her in the first place. Not everyone’s as headstrong as Megs is. So if you wanna text her. Do it.”

-

 

iMessage  
Hales

Dane i miss you so much here  
it doesnt feel right w/o you like im happ ybut also im NOT  
and i wish you were here

-

Haley stumbles off the plane in Boston with a dry mouth and the worst headache of her life.

“You’re still drunk,” Hilary laughs, slinging an arm around her shoulders, and Haley shakes her head.

“I would be enjoying myself if I was still drunk,” she replies. Some part of her does wish that she was still drunk. She doesn’t want to know what she texted Dana, but she knows she wasn’t drunk enough to forget it, just drunk enough to do it and delete it. At least she’d had the sense to delete the those texts instead of their entire history. She’s never gone back to read anything, but if she wanted to--

She’s fucked. And too hungover to deal with it. 

-

iMessage  
Dolly 

I ordered thai, can you pick it up?  
Usual place. Less spice for the white girl dw 

-

Having something in her hands when she comes in helps Haley, because she can pretend to focus on not dropping her suitcase or the food. Dana hops off the couch to help her, and they both hold onto the takeout bag for a second before Dana puts it on the counter and does what Haley doesn’t have the guts to do: she reaches up and wraps her arms around Haley’s neck to pull her into a hug.

“Thanks for getting the less spicy rice,” Haley says, because she doesn’t know what else to say. She’s expecting Dana to say something back, but she doesn’t. She just holds onto Haley until Haley properly hugs her back. Her headache subsides a little when she rests her chin on Dana’s shoulder, and she thinks to herself then that it would be totally possible for her to fall asleep like that.

“It didn’t feel right without you,” Haley says.

“Yeah,” Dana says, “I’m sorry, um--you said that last night, but I don’t know if--”

“I remember,” Haley mumbles. She did not. She knows that Dana knows it.

Dana pulls away from her and digs into the takeout bag. Haley watches her for a few seconds, processing, before she takes her suitcase to her room. When she comes back out, Dana has their food out and hands it over without saying anything else. They curl up on the couch and Dana unpauses Narcos, which Haley has never really paid attention to, and things go back to the way they should be.

Kind of.

“What else did I say?” Haley mumbles around the last of her rice. Dana doesn’t answer her right away, and it makes her nervous.

“Nothing,” Dana says, “it was a text, don’t you have it?”

“Uh, yeah,” Haley, says, “just, I wasn’t sure if I called you, or--”

“No,” Dana says, tucking her feet up under her, “but you could have, if you wanted to.”

Now Haley almost wishes she had, except that she can imagine what she would have said, and it would have made hanging out on the couch like this almost impossible. 

An episode of Narcos in and she’s nodding off, despite the screaming drug dealers. She almost falls asleep sitting up, but Dana reaches over and pushes her shoulder until she flops onto the couch, laying out with her feet against one arm. The sofa isn’t big enough for her to do that without lying on Dana, but she hesitates to do it until Dana takes care of that, too, reaching for Haley’s head and resting it on her leg.

So things are okay.

-

When she wakes up Dana is gone. For a second she panics, and then she realizes that Dana had woken up alone and disoriented, too, in _her_ room. 

There’s a pillow under her head and a blanket over the rest of her and imagining Dana doing it makes her feel warm. She closes her eyes again, and the second time she wakes up the living room is light and she smells coffee first, before she makes sense of anything else. When she sits up, she watches Dana in the kitchen for almost twenty seconds before her brain is awake enough to form thoughts.

She wants this. She wants to wake up like this, to Dana, like this, like she’s been waking up for months, except--

“Hey,” Dana says, when she realizes that Haley is up, “you’ve been asleep for like sixteen hours.”

“You could have woken me up,” Haley mumbles, running her hands through her hair. She knows it looks ridiculous and there’s really no helping it, but she has to try. Dana turns, holding two cups of coffee instead of one.

“Looks like I did,” she says, and Haley’s stomach drops right out of her.

She gets up off of the couch and takes the coffee. Neither of them moves, and they both stare at their mugs for a few seconds, each leaning back against a counter.

“I missed you,” Dana admits quietly, and Haley puts down her coffee.

“You’ll make the next one,” Haley says, and Dana shakes her head.

“You don’t have to tell me that,” Dana says, “I’m not---I’m not really talking about playing.”

Haley blinks at her. Dana is still holding her coffee, and Haley keeps waiting for her to put it down so that a kiss wouldn’t be risking a nice mug or both of their feet, but it’s like there’s something really interesting on the ground, because Dana will not look at her.

“Hey,” Haley says, completely aware of how different her voice sounds, even to her, “can I kiss you?”

Dana puts down her coffee, finally, and nods, and she looks like Haley feels, excited and nervous. Haley takes a step to close the space between them and overthinks it. She’s not sure where to put her hands, or if she should kiss Dana first before she puts her hands anywhere, but that seems weird and Dan’as waiting on her now that she said it. Her heart is going doubletime when she wings it, finally, reaching for Dana’s face, realizing too late that her hands are cold and clammy. Dana closes her eyes and Haley kisses her.

It’s different than the last time. It’s a little awkward at first, but when Dana’s hands flutter to her elbows Haley remembers that Dana’s just as nervous and it makes her want to laugh. She ends up smiling against Dana’s lips, and Dana’s smiling too, and they have to keep taking breaks from kissing to smile at each other. That makes it the best kiss, suddenly, even though it’s a kiss that tastes like coffee how Dana drinks it, with nothing sweet in it at all.

“Whoa,” Haley says when she pulls back, and Dana laughs.

“I didn’t think you’d do it,” Dana admits, picking her coffee back up, and Haley makes a face, but she can’t really argue. She’s surprised at herself, too. She wants to ask what would have happened if she hadn’t been able to, but it doesn’t matter now, so she doesn’t bother. She likes the idea that she’s surprised and impressed Dana. She’s always liked that idea, in hindsight, but it was usually on the ice. She runs with that. She’s always been good at scoring twice.

“I’d like to take you to dinner,” she says, before she can second guess herself. Dana blinks at her over the rim of her mug. She takes a long drink of her black coffee and then she puts the mug down again.

Dana grins at her. It’s huge, a big toothy smile that makes Haley grin stupidly back at her, and they stand there like that, making the most ridiculous faces at each other, until the smiles dissolve into laughter. Haley has to lean back against the counter again, and Dana leans into her, holding herself up with a hand on the counter behind Haley’s back but Haley supporting most of her weight. They’re a little hysterical, and Haley’s exhausted and dehydrated and probably still a little hungover but this--with Dana cracking up, slumping against her, their coffee forgotten--this is Haley’s place.


End file.
